On The Block Ch 02

Chapter 2: Blazing Saddles

Originally titled "Whoring Night Chapter 2"

Rewritten and edited by La Pantera Bonita

I decided to introduce my friend Roger to the Block. He hasn’t been laid in a few years and needed to get his tubes cleaned out. Roger is a Texan. He is 6'6" tall and is built like a sumo wrestler. He has a handle bar mustache and dark long hair, which he typically wears in a ponytail. We took his pickup truck and parked behind the Flamingo Bar. There is no attendant there. The parking spots are numbered and there is a board with corresponding numbers and slots. You toss in $3 dollars for the numbered slot for your appropriate parking spot and you are good for the night. It is a safe lot, right across from the police station.

It was about eight PM. Shift change was over and the evening girls would be settled in. It is a good time to get a young popular model before she becomes too used for the evening. We hit the JEWEL BOX first. Lori saw me as I walked in the door and came running over. "You gotta see this!" she exclaimed. She was all excited about something. The last time she was this excited, I had to watch two flies fucking.

"Take a lude" I told her. She was all the time bouncing off the walls.

She took my hand and proceeded to take me downstairs to the private customer area. Joe, the bartender yelled at her to stop. I had not paid yet. She barked back at Joe and said we would only be a few minutes. I shrugged my shoulders stepped over to the bar and ask Joe to take care of my friend Roger. Joe knew I was a regular and that was my way of telling him not to rip Roger off as a tourist. Of course, Roger was a big boy who could handle himself. He reminded me of Mungo from "Blazing Saddles." You wouldn't want to shoot Roger -that would only piss him off.

As we were going down the creaky wooden stairs Lori puts her finger to her dick sucking lips and goes, "shhhh” as if I’m the one making the noise.

There are 3 small adjoining rooms. In Pennsylvania, we call them closets. The first is a small office; the other two had cots in them for "business." We entered the office area. This was the first time I had ever been in this room and Lori again placed her finger to her lips indicating for my silence.

She motioned to me to help her remove a picture from the wall, as she turned out the lights. Ahhh, a peephole. Lori took a quick peek into the hole and motioned me to do the same. There was the biggest, hairiest white ass I have ever seen propped up in the air. There was a huge fucking zit on his left cheek; I thought it was an eye staring back at me. Next to the great white moon was a tiny girl in a black nightie spanking the guy on the ass with a paddle. I had to take a second look. It was surrealistic; the huge size of this ass, next to a small girl who stood about the same height; he was on his knees on top of the cot and she was standing on the floor. We placed the picture back and went outside into the hallway.

"Do you know who that is?" she whispered.

"Looks like Madeline." I replied.

"No, no, no, the guy, do you know who the guy is?"

"Lori" I said with half a grin, "Not from that angle."

"He's a Hog! He's one of the Washington Redskin Hogs!"

I just shook my head. The Redskins had just won the Superbowl. I was wondering how the rest of the team was celebrating. I can just see the HBO series "When Hogs Behave Badly."

We crept back upstairs. I owed Lori for this one. Roger was sitting at the bar drinking away. I told Roger I had to go back downstairs and get a blowjob and that I'd be right back. Joe was happy to see me get a bottle, i.e., pay-up.

Lori was still wearing her street clothes, jeans and tank top. She normally arrives late, especially when she is fucking someone out in the parking lot before work. I didn't want to fuck her, she had been hit more times than Joe Louis, and that was probably just today. However, a Lori blowjob special would do me just fine.

I went into the far end room next to out football star and stripped waiting for Lori to return. I was listening to the goings on, as the walls are paper-thin. "Whack!" "Whack!" " Bad boy for grabbing Mommy's tit."

"Oh Jesus" I thought. "What the fuck have I done to deserve this?" I held back the laughter.

Lori came back naked with some tissues and a hot wet washcloth. She took the washcloth and wiped down my dick with it, as I was lying flat on my back. She was getting ready to put on a rubber and mount me, and I said, "Wrong, suck it."

She said, " Why don't you ever fuck me, all you want is for me to suck your dick."

I looked intently at her, buying time to think. “You know Lori, my first wife told me that once, just once." I glared back at her. She got the picture. I like being able to choose whom I will fuck in a night, and what kind of sex it will be. Money and drugs are equalizers for us fat ugly guys with gigantic 5.3 inch dicks.

Lori knelt down between my legs draped over the edge of the worn cot. She lowered her head in submission unto my cock and then proceeded to draw a full 30-inch vacuum. Her head bobbed up and down furiously as she used her right hand to stroke my dick. I knew I wasn't going to last long. Until I realized, I had a distraction from beyond.

Whack! "Bad Boy."

Whack! "You've been bad."

Thwack! "Tell Momma you’re sorry."

The picture in my mind of that big hairy ass was enough to prevent a quick cumming. Normally I think about old baseball teams and try to name the starting player at each position. I was smiling at her, daring her to make me cum.

Her cheeks are already naturally hollowed inward. The additional suction she had nearly caved her face in as Lori kept bobbing away like a good little girl. Then she looked up at me. Her face wasn't cute enough to make me cum. I had her where I wanted, 30 minutes of power suction. Mmmm, life is good.

Then the bitch did it. From out of the blue, she stuck a finger up my ass and I shot my wad. She had pulled her mouth away for my dick, causing my load to land all over her hair.

"Shit, I just washed it!" she remarked, reaching up a tissue and attempting to wipe it out.

"I'm sorry; I thought that was where you wanted it. You know us men don't have good aim."

I became a little concerned about these latent homosexual tendencies I had developed. I am thinking about a big hairy butt, get a finger shoved up my ass, then I cum. Jesus, what the fuck next. I thought it best not to tell Roger. After all, he is from Texas where men are men and sheep are scared.

We went back upstairs and I bought Lori a drink. This way we would talk, so this isn't a wham bam thank you ma'am session. It is the equivalent of women forcing their husbands to cuddle after sex, when all they want to be is left the fuck alone. The sacrifices we make. I normally buy a "cuddle drink" for the girls or at least apologize or make an excuse why I can't- like "You got all my money bitch, how about buying me a drink!" Sometimes they do! I am not sure who the real sucker is in that case.

Roger was doing fine. He had a fresh beer. He was sitting with a girl who was stroking his long hair and he hadn't invested a dime in her, save a dollar or two, she worked off him for the jukebox scam. Damn, I should have warned him about that.

I bought Lori a drink and Joe gave me a "free" beer. He looked at Lori's small tuft of hair still plastered to her skull, then looked over at me and gave me a smirk and a headshake. Again, I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, "What's a guy to do?"

I asked Lori, who was the most famous athlete that came down here.

Lori responded, "Do you remember Old Christine?"

"Christine was an athlete?" I asked.

"No, she had Mickey Mantle's son."

"Get the fuck out." I gasped in disbelief.

"She had pictures and everything."

"What? Of her and Mantle together?"

Lori continued, “Of her and her son. He was the spitting image of his father. She said Mickey Mantle was a real mean bastard toward women. He made them walk behind him like the Japanese, and wouldn't allow them to speak unless spoken to…" [Author’s note-This story was actually related to me similar to how Lori tells me in this tale. Mantle did a lot of whoring, as evident by his FBI file on line. It is not unlikely there may be one or a few of his bastards out there.]

"Hey how about your friend, " she continued.

I turned to Rog, "Would you like a blow job from Lori?"

Roger looked at Lori's ball-snot collection in her hair and claimed he was ready to go to another bar.

That was enough cuddling; time to go. I kissed Lori on the cheek good-bye, almost in a brotherly fashion, and gave a gentle squeeze on her jean-covered ass in a not-so brotherly fashion and whispered "Roger said maybe next time."

I escorted Roger over to CRYSTALS, another favorite spot. I quickly went over again the fine ground rules and costs of whoring on the Block. It was his turn.

The girls were all over Roger as soon as we stepped in the door. The all wanted to touch his hair. My hair was long too, but not nearly the length of ole Rog. We sat down. Roger ordered his usual two beers (he drinks one down real fast, while the barmaid opens the second one-which he "nurses"). He is interested in Demi, a knockout.

Demi was from Miami with a great all over tan. She had the body of a model, although she had nice facial features, she was not glamorous. She knew guys were chumps and worked them over hard. I had bought her a drink once, and took an instant dislike to her. Normally disliking a good looking babe with a body doesn't prevent me from abusing and degrading them. This time it did. I had seen her before have 5 bottles bought for her in one hour by three different guys. She would tell the bartender to come to the back room after 5 minutes had elapsed to, claiming she had to dance. The poor guy would have to buy another bottle if he wanted her to stay. She created a scene after the one "John" left because Don, the bartender had become busy and took 10 minutes to come get her. She was a cunt with a capital "K."

I warned Roger about her. He claimed she promised him the full thirty minutes.

After being in the backroom for 5 minutes, Roger returned to the bar. He was pissed.

"Did you get off?" I asked- always the important things first.

"Yes. I got off" he responded hesitantly.

"Well, what's the fuck the problem, Roger?"

"The problem is I didn't get the full 30 minutes."

"Roger" I explained. "It's 30 minutes or until you cum, whichever is first. The object is not to see how many times you can cum in 30 minutes."

"No one explained that to me," said Big Roger with a pout visible under his mustache.

“Oh Jesus”, I thought. I guess this is what they call skill of the craft.

I tried to console him, claiming he did all right, after all, he got off, when Teresa approached me and said "hello."

I turned to see who spoke. I didn't recognize her. She had put on a lot of weight. "You're looking good as ever." It was a lot of weight and she looked like shit.

Teresa replied, "No, I put on a lot of weight."

I bought her a drink and we small talked. Teresa had two cousins working here, Big Cindy and Dan the bartender. Dan would later appear as a barker in the movie "On the Block, a box office flop that failed to capitalize on the success of "Blaze." I had been fucking Teresa regularly. She looked a lot like my ex-wife and even had the same name. She gave better head than her too, but most women did. My ex-wife had a crooked tooth that would scrape my dick whenever she tried to suck it. A marriage doomed from the start. Teresa was chubby when I first met her, but lost a lot of weight on the no balanced meal and an eight ball diet. She preferred it doggy style, which I would accommodate. She had medium length sun blond hair and "C" cup titties, which I would grab onto, as I would take her from behind. She claimed you could not get pregnant doing it doggy style. She just had a baby a year ago and was now back at work. What a family leave policy. I couldn't fuck her now, at least not with Roger with me. I was praying she didn't want to fuck. I asked her if she was still working the backrooms, as she was not dressed for the part.

She responded, "No, I don't do bottles anymore, I'm a mother. Would you buy me another drink?"

I politely refused explaining, “I was hoping to get you a bottle, and I really need to go in the backroom." I felt safe saying that, because she doesn’t fuck anymore. Also, it leaves the “door” open in case Tubby does shed a few pounds.

Teresa lit up. "Hey, I got a girl you would love."

She went in the back and returned with a friend. She introduced me to Spike.

Spike was a bit cold at first. She didn't like setups. She was selective about her clientele. We chatted a bit in order to feel each other out. Seems we were both classic-rock lovers and thought Jim Morrison was God. The conversation warmed up. She liked my clothes and jewelry. We slowly began to realize we were both bullshit artists out of the same mold. Bullshit artists have mutual admiration for each other. We were sitting at the corner of the bar, so I was a slight distance away from her. It would have been too awkward to reach out and caress her breast, as I would have had to move closer.

Spike then spoke, "I don't like to see women getting felt up at the bar”. She was looking at my friend Roger, “talking” to another girl, and feeling her tits. “It is too degrading."

Being ever the liberal I agreed with her, "You are so right Spike" Pointing my finger as I spoke. Shit! There goes plan "A."

Dan came over to let us know I either had to buy a bottle or Spike had to dance. I told Spike I would like to see her dance, and I would buy her a bottle afterward. Actually, I wanted Roger to see what I was going to fuck.

Spike took the stage. Everyone shut up and watched. There are certain dancers who have an aura about them which demands respect. Spike was 5'2'' tall; long jet black hair like the island girls; blue eyes; very pretty face, posed several times for biker magazines; 22 years of age; fair skin, her Dad was Irish and Mom Italian, nice firm conical breasts, beautiful legs, and a great ass. Her pussy hairs were long and black, but kept neat and trim. She had broken a nail that day working on her transmission. She scrapes soap under her fingernails before she starts work, that way all the grime gets on the soap and rinses right off. What a gal!

Spike danced fervently across the stage to David Lee Roth's "Bump and Grind" She grabbed hold of the pole and moved her ass to the music. The clothes slowly peeled off. She didn't do anything slutty, just quick smooth dance moves with a sexy ass wiggle. There were two young loud mouths sitting at the front of the stage. Now there wasn’t a peep coming from them. Their eyes were glued on her every move and their mouths agape. I almost enjoyed watching them as much as I did watching Spike. Okay I lied. It was no contest.

When Spike was done, she walked off stage carrying her clothes. I flipped Dan a C-note, picked up our drinks and we headed toward the backrooms. I quickly undressed. There immediately followed a groping session, like two kids playing doctor. She didn't mind the slutty stuff behind closed doors. I handed her money and then she walked out of the room.

She returned in about 5 minutes, which seemed like eternity. I had gotten my clothes half back on, thinking she was not going to return. She went over to the table and cut out a few lines. She said, "Let's do these lines, then fuck."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Normally I buy the coke in order to get coke whores free. Now I am paying for the whore and getting the coke free (or Pepsi free depending on taste). The bottom line and results were the same. By now I had stopped doing coke because of the drug testing policy; but when a beautiful naked lady says to, "Let's do these lines and fuck," there is an official clause that states under duress one might rescind on a resolution. I was in love. Oh not regular love, but love as defined by the Chaldean Oracles, "The Hidden One who secretly doth cause to spread among all souls the Fire that cannot be attained by contemplation." [Paris Papyrus verse 1762] I can now fully understand Marion Berry’s situation-you must do the coke to get the pussy. I am just glad I am not mayor or something important; I was just a part time school bus driver.

I did my line. I was polite and took the fat one, wanting to spare this young thing the evils of drugs. The coke had been rock hard to cut and flew across the room a few times. The line burned my nostril all the way up. In a serious doctor-like fashion, I informed Spike, “this coke had a benzene base to it." I then tasted the residue on the table and rubbed it on my gums… "And a glue dryer." She looked at me with raised eyebrows.

I went on, “The Feds have been cracking down on the ether, so the manufacturers are using benzene and petroleum as substitutes. That is why you see a lot of cokeheads getting stomach cancer. Benzene is a real killer. Got any more?"

She was so impressed we got to finish the gram. Ah yes, I am still the Bullshit King. I felt like Rocky jumping up and down at the top of the stairs.

Spike’s feet had been hurting her, so I had her lay down while I rubbed them. She was naked on the couch; face up with her right side against the wall or back of the couch. I lifted her right foot in the air; just enough to part her legs and get a good view of her pussy lips. I took both hands and held the foot on each side and used my thumbs mostly to massage the ball of her foot. I proceeded to her toes. Her black toe polish matched my fingernail polish. I then worked each toe separately with my fingers back and forth and raising the toe at the same time. After I did each toe like that, I placed all fingers in between the toes and stretched them sideways. I held her foot up a little higher and ran my tongue over the soft in seam tissue of the arch. Her eyes were closed at this time. She was purring. I could see her pussy twitching. I was getting rock hard myself. While I was gently tonguing the arch, I was working the heel. I placed the foot down. I was done.

She quickly put her other foot in my face. This time I sat on the sofa between her feet, her right foot behind my back, extending her left foot outward. This spread her legs apart even further and placed my eyes closer to heaven. I performed the same ritual on the second foot, only this time on occasion I would rub my hand and without objection on her pussy lips.

I turned her over on her stomach and rubbed the back of her calves, first hard, then with slow caresses. I licked the soft tissue on the back of her knees and proceed up her legs. I rubbed and then gently bit her ass cheeks and nestled my tongue in the small of her back. I started to massage her back when there was a knock at the door. I checked my watch, Fuck! 45 minutes has gone by. I was going to have to get another bottle.

Spike went to the door and told Dan to "go away. I will let you know when my time is up."

My love just deepened. “Got any more Coke?" I was not shy at this point, besides this was bad stuff. The more I did the less of a chance she had of hurting herself with it. A pity they don't give out citizenship awards to self-sacrificing guys like me.

She had another quarter gram she was saving for her boyfriend, but what the hell. She cut out two fat lines, while I massaged her back, shoulder, and neck. I would lick the nape of her neck, which gave her noticeable goose bumps. I went to stick a tongue in her ear, but she objected. I ended up with my hand around her head rubbing the back of her head with my thumbs. We rolled up a C-note and finished the last two lines.